


A Touch of Gray

by Ralkana



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, Ficathon, Post-Canon, Relationship(s), Shanshu Prophecy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-07-10
Updated: 2004-07-10
Packaged: 2017-10-22 10:18:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/237031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ralkana/pseuds/Ralkana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every silver lining has a touch of gray. Takes place after <i>Not Fade Away.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	A Touch of Gray

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer -- I don’t own them; Joss and all the various other Powers That Be do. I'm just playing. The title comes from the lyrics of the song A Touch of Gray. Lyrics by Robert Hunter, performed by The Grateful Dead.
> 
> Written for somefairytale in Ducks' Angel ficathon on LJ. I've put the prompt at the bottom of the fic.
> 
> To Maquis Leader, thank you for being the best friend anyone could ever have. Your words of encouragement kept me going so many times when I truly thought I'd never write anything again. I wish I could send you hugs and chocolate and nekkid Angels galore! And that doesn't even mention how much I owe you for helping me with the title!
> 
> Timeline -- Picks up at the end of _Not Fade Away_.

"Well, personally, I kinda wanna slay the dragon." Angel stared at the advancing demons. "Let's get to work!"

He started forward, but Illyria strode ahead of him, leading the charge. Irritation flared within him and then faded when he realized it made more tactical sense for her to lead, so he drew back, falling even with Spike. Gunn was sheltered behind them, his labored breathing rasping in their ears, the scent of his blood thick in the air.

Illyria was eerily silent as she attacked the front line, moving with fluid, unearthly grace. Even with much of her power gone, she was stronger than either Spike or Angel, and definitely stronger than Gunn, who was fading fast.

She snapped a demon's neck with ease and was swinging his weapon to dispatch three of his comrades before the first body had even fallen to the ground. Angel wondered briefly what the fight would have been like if she had full possession of her powers, but he realized that if she had her full powers, she might be fighting on the other side.

Gunn swore and nearly fell as he ducked away from the dragonlike demon, grabbing at Angel for balance. The demon wasn't breathing fire like mythical dragons, but it was shrieking as it swooped and attacked, trying to take off the heads of Angel and his crew.

Angel watched it, planning his attack as he parried and thrust with his sword -- the demons were plentiful, but they weren't the most cunning or skillful of opponents. Their battle strategy seemed to focus on overwhelming their enemies with sheer numbers rather than with any sort of battle plan.

Illyria squawked and staggered, hit by a lucky swing from one of the demons, and she kicked out, sending her attacker soaring over the growing pile of carcasses. The alley was narrow, and the bodies were lying where they fell, building a gruesome barricade of sorts between the defenders and the attacking army. Angel had chosen the spot for his last stand well.

The body of another of Illyria's opponents went arcing overhead, and the dragon, acting mainly on instinct, screeched and made a grab for it. Angel took advantage of the careless move, thrusting his sword deep into the demon's side as it dove and using the weapon as leverage to vault up onto its back.

Over the dragon's earsplitting cry of agony, Angel could hear Spike bellow, "Drama queen!"

The thing writhed in midair, trying desperately to throw him off, and nearly succeeding. Angel had ridden too many wild mounts to count over the centuries, but doing so thirty feet off the ground was a little bit different.

Angel gave up trying to hack the thing's head off and tossed aside his sword, sending it over the heads of his friends and into the body of a demon who'd gotten behind them and was rushing Gunn.

Digging his knees and feet into the dragon's sides, he took the thing's head in his hands and twisted, roaring in triumph as he heard neck bones snap like twigs.

The dragon's inhuman screeching cut off abruptly, and the body spasmed and then plummeted.

"Oh... fuck..." grunted Angel, doing his best to steer what had suddenly become a couple of tons of dead weight. He aimed it toward the seemingly endless army of demons, hoping to take out as many as he could, but the thing gave one last twitch and veered off to one side. It only clipped a dozen or so during its fall, killing several and maiming the rest.

Angel leapt free, just before the demon hit the side of a building with a thunderous crash. He groaned in pain as he skidded and bounced across the wet asphalt, coming to rest against the wall, thankfully with much less force than his foe had.

He sprang to his feet, an instant before a huge broadsword clanged into the ground where his head had been, throwing up sparks quickly doused by the rain. Following Illyria's example, he snapped his opponent's neck and grabbed the sword from its slack paw.

The narrowness of the alley and its small confines were both a help and a hindrance as he hacked a swath through the demons, nearing the pile of bodies, which now reached eye level. Demons were still scrambling over it, and some of them were trying to collapse the pile by pulling corpses out and flinging them aside. A few were leaping straight over the bodies, and Angel did the same.

He landed just in time to see a snarling, slavering beast drive a short sword deep into Gunn's back.

"Gunn!" Angel screamed as he raced toward them, but he knew it was too late. The blow was a lethal one, and he reached them as the demon pulled his sword free.

Gunn's body hit the ground and the demon laughed, unholy glee in his eyes. Grief and rage surged through Angel, and he let it carry him through the attack. His friend's killer died a gruesome death, but it wasn't enough. Nothing ever would be.

There was no time to mourn as more demons closed in on every side of him. Angel was a whirling circle of death, but he was tiring. The fight with Hamilton had drained him, but the energy had been replaced -- and then some -- when Angel had drunk from him. Angel had no idea how long the feeling of being supercharged would last in a battle like this, though, especially since he was bleeding from several wounds.

He'd lost sight of Illyria and Spike in the driving rain and the mass of bodies -- alive and dead -- that pressed in on him. For all he knew, he was the only one left fighting. Death was inevitable, but he'd take as many of these bastards out with him as he could.

There was a flash of white light that didn't look like lightning, and it distracted him long enough for one of the demons he was fighting to sink a spearhead into Angel's shoulder. Angel grunted as he pulled it from his flesh. He snapped the weapon in two, stabbing out with one arm and catching a tall demon in the midsection. He clubbed another attacker over the head with the remaining piece of shaft and then shoved it deep into the demon's throat.

Still fighting, he watched curiously as the mass of demons around him heaved and trembled as if something were cutting through them. A wedge shaped opening was appearing in the enemies' ranks.

He saw several female forms, weapons flashing, faces grim, fanned out behind a leader he couldn't yet see. Demons fell before the leader, and he caught a glimpse of blonde hair. His throat tightened with terror as the tingle in his gut registered as something more than battle anxiety.

"Buffy..."

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

She knew exactly when he saw her, when he registered her presence. Horror leapt into his eyes, and his face -- his body -- went slack with fear.

"Angel, watch out!" she cried, lunging to get the demon behind him.

He shakily brought himself back into the fight, dispatching the demons around him without his usual elegant style.

"How..."

"Willow," she said quickly. "Angel, you have to -- "

"Tell her to get you out of here! Now!"

"Can't. Besides -- "

"No," he told her, his voice rising in panic. "No, Buffy, you're not supposed to be here!"

"Angel -- "

"No! No, no, no, you have to get out of here, Buffy! Please! You have to go!"

"Angel, I'm here. You have to deal -- " Her words cut off on a grunt of effort as she parried an attack. "Fight now so that we can fight about me being here later. If you don't concentrate, you're going to get us both killed!"

Her words didn't seem to register, but her small gasp -- more of surprise than of pain -- as a demon barely nicked the skin of her arm snapped Angel out of it. He growled low in his throat, hacking off the demon's sword arm before taking off its head. He turned his back to Buffy, and together they fought, swords singing as they scythed through the air and demon flesh.

Angel was fighting distractedly, and it worried her. He was still killing each demon that rushed them, but he was preoccupied with her presence, and it was giving the demons tiny openings. They were wounding him. All minor wounds, but they'd be enough to eventually bring him down.

She registered the axe heading for her a fraction of a second too late, but before she could even try to react, Angel's sword clanged against the blade, throwing off sparks. She spun under his arm, taking out the ugly thing behind him, and she resolved not to worry about him. She'd been right; being preoccupied with each other would get them both killed.

Angel's growl changed, the timbre deepening, and she hazarded a glance in his direction, stifling a sigh of relief as she saw her latest companion effortlessly fighting his way toward them.

"I see you brought him with you," Angel snarled.

"Angel -- "

"Maybe no one bothered to tell you which side he's on."

"He's on _our_ side!"

"Me, Spike, Darla, Dru -- he knew all of us, and he _didn't_ stake us when he had the chance!"

She staggered under a blow from one of the demons, and Angel steadied her and lashed out to defend her, scowling all the while.

"The lady is correct, Angelus. I am on your side. This time."

"The name," Angel bit out, neatly bisecting a demon with one vicious hack, "is _Angel_. What, do I need to wear a freaking nametag or something?"

"My apologies," the Immortal said with a nod, killing four of the nearest attackers with fluid grace.

"I don't want your goddamn apologies!"

"Uh, guys," Buffy broke in, glancing around them. The army of demons -- what was left of them -- had realized rushing the three of them was probably a really bad idea. They were warily circling, snarling and yowling but not attacking.

"Now would probably be a really good time," Buffy said, and Angel glanced at her curiously. The Immortal nodded. Keeping his gaze trained on their adversaries, he kissed Buffy gently on the temple.

Angel moved restlessly, fingers tightening on the hilt of his sword. "Is this really the time for that?" he growled.

"Consider this reparation, Angel, for my past ill treatment of you -- "

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I may not be so generous next time we meet." He smiled at Buffy, showing perfect white teeth. "It has been... amazing, cara mia."

Before Buffy could do more than blush, there was a thunderous crack and a blinding, eye-wateringly bright flash of blue light. A shrill, inhuman wail rose up from the army of the Senior Partners, and Buffy flinched as an agonized roar burst from Angel beside her.

The pounding rain slowed to a drizzle, and then a trickle, and then it stopped. The alley was eerily silent, and Buffy rapidly blinked away the afterimages from the explosion of light.

The demons were gone. The Immortal was gone. The multitude of corpses Angel and his crew had created were gone as well. She vaguely registered a few huddled shapes on the wet ground here and there, but her attention was focused on the crumpled form at her feet.

"Angel!" she exclaimed, dropping to her knees beside him. "I swear to God, if whatever that was hurt him, I'll hunt you down and find a way to stake your ass, immortal or not!" she muttered to the empty air as she rolled him over.

He was so still, and she bit her lip as she gently searched him for major injuries. There were minor cuts and nicks, a mostly healed puncture wound on one shoulder, and a pretty nasty gash on his belly, but -- she stopped. His chest was moving. Up and down, up and down. His chest was moving, and he was unconscious. She stared at it, absently placing a finger under his nose. Warm breath rushed in and out. She studied his face. His dark, wet hair was plastered over his forehead, long lashes lying on his cheeks. She blinked. Even in the dim light, she could see a very faint pink tinge to his skin.

"B!"

Ignoring Faith's yell, she reached under Angel's chin and pressed with her fingers. Still in disbelief, she tore open his shirt and bent double, flattening her head against his chest. Steady, regular rhythm. A healthy heartbeat.

"Oh my God," she breathed. A smile bloomed over her features, and she pressed harder, trying to get closer to that amazing sound.

"Hey, Buffy!"

"What, Faith?" she said, distracted, her head still resting lightly on Angel's chest, rising and falling a bit with each breath he took.

"Spike's breathing! _Really_ breathing!"

That snapped her out of it. "Spike too?" she asked, raising her head to look at Faith, who knelt next to Spike's body. Without realizing it, she slid her hand up to Angel's chest to monitor his breathing and heartbeat.

"You mean Angel -- " Faith smiled. "Damn, B! Whatever your honey did..." She whistled in amused awe.

"We've got to get them out of this alley," Buffy told her. The rest of her team was gathering around, looking down at them. One of the younger Slayers stumbled over, looking very pale.

"Shelley's dead," she told Buffy, her voice shaking. There were tracks on her cheeks that looked fresher than they would have if they'd been left by the recent storm. "I think Tricia is too, but I can't tell. But Shelley is. She definitely is." She staggered away from them, holding her stomach, and Buffy shared a sympathetic glance with Faith.

Buffy sighed. Neither she nor Faith knew any of these girls very well, but losing them wasn't easy. No time for grief now, though. "We've all got to get out of this alley -- the Sunnydale police might not have noticed an apocalyptic battle on their turf, but I don't know about the LAPD."

"Want me to call Willow and ask for a return ticket?"

Buffy looked up at the walls -- the older building that made up one wall of the alley looked very familiar. "Nah... I think I know where we are. We just need to get inside this building, and we'll be okay."

She glanced around, and then pulled herself up to her feet. With a grunt of effort, she lifted Angel up and draped him over her shoulders, ignoring the admiring looks of her protégés.

"What should we do..." Faith trailed off, glancing at the sodden, huddled forms that lay here and there in the alley. Buffy sighed again.

"Take them all in. They're either ours or his. Meet you inside. And make it quick." She shifted Angel and secured her grip on his soaked clothes, heading for the back door of his one time home as she heard Faith begin to snap orders to the girls behind her.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Angel rolled over in bed, and the pain the movement caused jarred him out of his restless sleep. Disoriented, he glanced around him. He was in his bedroom in the Hyperion. Why was he in the hotel? What had happened to the penthouse? Everything he remembered... real? Dream?

"Hell of a dream," he croaked, and then he groaned in pain. Breathing hurt. A lot. So he stopped. After a few confusing seconds, he gasped, air rushing in to fill his lungs.

"What the hell?" he coughed. He suddenly realized that hammering sound was his heart, and it was racing. At the realization, it pounded even faster.

Breathing heavily, he sat up in bed, ignoring his body's protests at the quick movement. His gaze darted wildly around the room. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust. Dust motes danced in the light streaming through the window -- the drapes had been thrown back to allow the sunlight in. But the Hyperion didn't have necrotempered glass...

Before he could make sense of _anything_ , Buffy came through the doorway from the suite's kitchen. "You're awake! Finally."

"What the hell is going on?" he yelled, and then his elbows refused to hold his body's weight anymore, and he collapsed back into bed.

She looked stunned at the anger in his voice. "Well... um... we don't exactly know... but we're pretty sure it's something Tim did."

That only served to confuse him even more, and he stared at her. After a moment, she must have realized what he was wondering about, because she said, "Oh! Well, I called him Tim. Like I'm gonna call him 'The Immortal' all the time. Please."

Jealous rage flooded through him, and a little bit of fear, though he refused to let that show. "He did this to me?"

"And, um, to Spike too."

The rage grew, and then the reality of the situation hit him, and the corner of his mouth lifted up in tiny smile. "I'm human... and Spike's human too? Bet no one saw that one coming." The thought of the prophecy triggered a memory, and the hint of a smile fell away. "But I don't understand... I signed it away..."

She sat on the edge of his bed, and he frowned. He couldn't hear her heartbeat, and it was like her scent had all but vanished. "Signed what away?" she asked, and he focused his attention back on her.

Angel shifted, trying to make himself more comfortable, and she helped him, placing a pillow behind him so he could sit up some, and he glanced gratefully at her before looking away. He didn't know how to tell her about any of it.

"There's this prophecy..."

"Souled vampire, apocalypse, human?" she broke in, and he stared at her in shock. "Yeah, Giles told me."

"Oh," he said after a minute. He was studying her face, trying to see if she was upset, but she was smiling. He didn't know what to think. "Well... I was trying to get close to some of the major players in the apocalypse and the only way they'd trust me was if I signed away the prophecy -- "

"Angel!"

"I had to, Buffy."

She nodded. "I know. You wouldn't have done it if there were any other way. Still... Oh well, there's something I picked up in my years as a Slayer -- prophecies are a pain in the ass. You can't change 'em, even if you want to."

Her words struck home, and Angel sat bolt upright. "Connor," he breathed. Fear raced through him, and some abstract part of his mind realized it led to a much more visceral reaction now that he was human. The rest of him just needed to know if his son was all right.

"What?"

He struggled to get out of bed, fighting her as she tried to hold him down. "Buffy, stop -- where's my wallet -- "

"Angel -- "

"I need a phone! Let me up!"

"Okay! Okay! I'll get you your wallet and a phone, okay? Lie down, you're not healed yet."

He slumped back on the bed, and his breathing was rough as he watched her move around the room. She collected his wallet from the top of the dusty dresser and grabbed her cell phone off an empty bookshelf. Returning to the bed, she handed him his wallet but pulled the cell phone away as he reached for it.

"Buffy!" His voice was tight with frustration as he strained to grab it from her.

"Tell me the number."

"I can do it!" he snapped.

"It's an Italian cell phone, Angel, you have to dial like fifteen numbers, and from what I hear, you can't even work an American one!"

Stung by her harsh words, he looked away, dropping his hand back to the bed. She sighed and sat on the edge of his bed again. "I'm sorry. It's just... you're freaking out about something, and that gets me wiggy."

"It's just... this is -- he's -- I need..."

"Angel, what's the number?" she asked softly, cutting through his anxiousness.

He pulled the small piece of paper from where he'd carefully tucked it away in his wallet. One glance was enough to bring the number back to him, but he clutched the paper tightly anyway as he read it off and she dialed.

Buffy handed him the phone as it began to ring, and his breathing grew raspy and then stopped as it rang once, then twice, then three times. No answer.

On the fourth ring, it was finally picked up.

"Hello?" a voice said sleepily.

Angel shakily let out his breath. "Connor."

"Angel?"

It was so strange to hear his name come from his son's mouth without the bite of contempt or ridicule. He couldn't help but smile. "You sound surprised."

"Well, yeah. I kinda got the impression I'd never be hearing from you again. I'm glad I was wrong."

Had his voice trembled at that? Angel was flooded with love and happiness and concern. But no despair. That was new. It was nice. Was this how fathers and sons normally interacted? But maybe without the whole apocalyptic battle thing?

"I, uh, got some... unexpected help," he told Connor, grinning at Buffy, who looked torn between watching him and trying to pretend like she wasn't listening to his phone call. She smiled back, but when she prepared to slide off the bed to leave and give him some privacy, he caught her wrist. "Stay," he mouthed, and she nodded and settled next to him, leaning on the headboard without touching him.

"Well, that's good..."

"I... I know you said you don't wanna make a thing but -- I could tell you about it, if you like. Over coffee again. You know -- if you want."

There was a pause, and then Connor cleared his throat. "Um..."

Angel's heart pounded. He was pushing too hard. "Not right away! If... if you want to wait a while, that's okay too. I was just thinking... oh! We could... maybe we could meet for lunch."

The pause lasted longer this time. "Lunch?" Connor eventually said in a careful tone.

Angel smiled. "Sure, why not?"

"Well... the whole -- I mean... you're not... a 'lunch' kinda guy... now you have me curious."

His smile grew. "Lunch then?"

"I'm trying to get those internships -- I have a lot of running around and packing and stuff to do, and I've got a couple interviews this week -- "

"Connor, that's great!"

"Yeah, thanks, but I'm not really sure when I could meet you... but lunch sounds... good. I'll call you?"

Angel glanced at the borrowed phone in his hand. "Um... I don't really have a phone right now... I'll call you? In a couple days?"

"That sounds good."

"Take care of yourself -- " Angel bit his lip to keep from adding 'son' to the end.

"I will... you too, okay? Bye, Angel."

There was a small click as the call ended, and Angel stared at the phone. After a moment, he handed it back to Buffy. "Thank you."

"No problem..."

He could see the curiosity in her eyes, and he had no idea what to tell her. A memory surfaced: he was holding a gurgling, happy Connor while he discussed with Wes how to tell Buffy about the boy.

Grief surged over him as he remembered Illyria's voice -- curt and precise but swimming with emotion -- as she reported Wesley's death.

He bowed his head, and when he looked up, Buffy was watching him with concern, all curiosity gone.

"Angel?"

"Illyria?"

She looked confused. "What?"

"Illyria -- she was fighting with us -- alongside us -- is she alive?"

Her eyes filled with sorrow. "I... I don't know. We -- you and Spike are the only -- we found your friends. Gunn, and... Fred? They're both -- I'm sorry, Angel."

"You found Fred's body? _Fred's_ body?"

"Brown hair? Thin? That is her name, isn't it?"

"I don't... I don't understand. When Illyria killed Fred and took over her body -- "

"What? Oh my God! Angel, I'm so sorry."

"You didn't know?"

"Of course not!"

He snorted tiredly. "Giles didn't tell you. Figures."

She looked furious. "What? I'm gonna kill him -- "

"It doesn't matter, Buffy. She was already dead. But that's what I don't understand. Fred's been... she's been dead for a while -- " His voice trembled and shook, and he stopped.

"Well, whatever The Immortal did to get rid of the demons, it pulled the vamp out of you and Spike, so maybe it pulled whatever was left of Illyria -- " She glanced over at him, at his tense body and his tightly shut eyes and his clenched fists, and she stopped too. She rested a hand on his chest. "Angel..."

He couldn't do this right now. He needed time. To think. To grieve. Wesley was dead. Gunn was dead. Fred was dead. Lorne had finally been pushed as far as his easy nature would allow him to be, and he was gone. Doyle... Cordelia... Everyone who'd allowed themselves to love him -- they got nothing but pain and death and sorrow for it. He brought only darkness into every life he touched.

It would be so easy to let her comfort him. Especially now. And then things would get even more confusing and complicated. "I'm really tired," he said quietly.

"Angel -- "

"Please. I just need... to rest. For a while. Please, Buffy." He turned away from her, curling on his side with his back to her. He stiffened as her hand landed on his shoulder, but after a few moments, she removed it. He listened, eyes screwed shut against the mounting waves of anguish, as she slid off the bed and moved to the door. She paused, probably looking back at him, and then the door shut behind her, leaving him alone to mourn.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Buffy closed the door to Angel's room with a sigh.

"B."

She turned at the whisper from down the hall. Faith was standing in front of the closed door to the room where they'd put Spike. She moved forward as Faith did, and they met in the middle of the hall.

"How's Angel?" Faith asked in a murmur. Buffy nodded toward the stairs, and they started down into the lobby.

"He's... he woke up. And now he's... sleeping again."

Faith looked at her knowingly. "Yeah. Spike's 'sleeping' too. He told me everything that happened."

"Good. You can tell me. We didn't get around to it... "

"Come on, I'll tell you on the way."

"Where are we going?"

"Spike told me where Wesley was going. We're on a retrieval mission."

Buffy stopped and closed her eyes. "Wesley too?"

Faith stared at the ground. "Yeah. Wesley too."

They were quiet as they moved through the hotel, each lost in her own thoughts.

They found Angel's big black convertible neatly and lovingly stored in the Hyperion's small private garage. Despite the somber mood, Faith grinned at the sight of it, and Buffy willingly ceded the driving to her. Faith told her what she knew of the battle as they drove, and with a few wrong turns, they ended up at a mansion in the hills, where everything was dark and empty. They walked inside and suddenly stopped, taking in the gory evidence of a battle.

Wrinkling her nose as she carefully stepped around chunks of something that looked suspiciously like the remains of Mayor Wilkins, Buffy approached Wesley's body. He lay crumpled on the ground, and she knelt beside him, angrily wiping the tears from her cheeks. Faith stood above her, watching her back, but the place was desolate, and eventually she knelt too.

"I didn't know him very well, but I know Angel loved him," Buffy told Faith.

"I knew him. He probably wished I didn't, but I did. He was a good guy. Come on. Let's go. I'll take him. You lead."

On the drive back, she told Faith of Angel's mysterious phone call, but Faith couldn't make any sense of it either. Faith was all for asking Angel about it, but Buffy decided to wait and see if he brought it up first.

When they reached to the hotel, Faith carried Wesley in and placed him with the bodies of the other battle casualties while Buffy hurried upstairs. She reflected on the fact that they'd have to do something for their dead friends soon, and she sighed at the idea of asking Angel about it.

Voices came from his room, and she pushed open the door without knocking. Angel sat on the bed, showered and dressed, and Spike was sprawled in the chair next to him. They were listening to a report on the radio. She stopped just inside the room. The idea of Spike and Angel calmly sitting in the same room would have been crazy enough even if they hadn't been sitting in the sunlight streaming in from the window.

"...Chief Bratton concluded his remarks by stating that the investigation into Senator Bruckner's brutal murder has just begun, and they are reluctant to put forward any theories at this time.

"In other local news, geologists are still attempting to figure out exactly what kind of seismic event occurred last night. The quake caused minor damage in several structures throughout the Los Angeles area, and scientists are puzzled by the seeming randomness of the damage. The downtown offices of the law firm Wolfram & Hart were completely destroyed, and witnesses in the Hollywood area have reported the bright flashes of a transformer explosion. Southern California Edison spokesmen have made no official comment."

Spike snorted. "Transformer, my arse."

"Shh..."

"Thanks, Genie. Caltech should be making a full report within the hour. Now, moving onto this afternoon's weather forecast -- what about that storm last night? Where'd that come from, Rob?"

There was a nervous laugh, tinny over the radio. "Well, Steve... I think it caught us all by surprise. The freak storm was most likely caused by a cold front moving in -- "

Angel switched off the radio. "Cold front. Clueless. They're all clueless."

"You're surprised?" Buffy asked from the doorway. He glanced at her and shook his head.

"Nah."

She looked Spike over. He looked good -- whole and healthy -- and she smiled tentatively. "Spike. You're alive. I mean... now you're really alive -- but..." She took a deep breath, sorting her thoughts. "Yeah. It's good. I'm glad. You look good," she finished, trying to ignore Angel as he shifted uneasily on his feet.

"Whether it's good remains to be seen, pet," Spike said with a wry smile. "Good to see you too."

The tension in the room grew until Faith poked her head through the door. "B? Angel? You guys seen -- oh. There you are."

Spike smirked. "I forget to leave a note?"

Faith crossed her arms and rolled her eyes as she sauntered in to stand by Buffy. "Please. Just wanted to make sure you're not out wreaking havoc."

"That was last night."

Faith sobered. "Hey, big guy. How're you?"

"Alive. Not yet sure how I feel about that."

Faith moved across the room and hopped up on the bed next to him. "So. Whatcha gonna do now?"

He glanced at her. "What do you mean?"

"Now that you're a real boy! You too, blondie. Got plans? Beach?"

"Let's go," Spike said. "With a drink. I plan to get very, very drunk. Very, very fast."

"What about you?" Buffy asked Angel.

"Vegas," he said promptly, and they all looked at him, surprised. "There's a branch of Wolfram & Hart in Vegas."

"You're mad. Turning human's finally finished you off, mate."

"Angel -- "

"You think they're finished with me? With us? This was _one_ branch. Taking out the Circle of the Black Thorn stopped an immediate threat, but even with whatever the Immortal did last night -- which I'd still like an explanation for," he cut in, glancing at Buffy. "That might have hurt the Senior Partners -- hell, I don't even know if it did that! You think they're going to let us go out and sit on the beach and eat ice cream and get a tan? They're going to keep coming until we're dead. And I'm not about to sit here and wait for them to come for me."

He was up and pacing by then, and he turned away from the three of them.

"Well, there's just one little problem with that, Caped Crusader. You forgotten the part where you're human now? Breakable? _More_ breakable? No super strength and instant healing? They nearly took you out several times when you were a vamp."

"What do you want to do? Hide under a rock? Go ahead then, but believe me, they'll come for you too, Spikey. And being human doesn't mean being weak. Wes was human. So was Gunn. And Fred. And they were some of the strongest people I ever knew."

"Yeah, and look what the SPs did to them!"

Angel whirled around. His voice was quiet and soft and deadly as he stalked toward Spike. "You bastard. Don't you ever -- "

"That's not what I meant!" Spike threw his hands up, defending himself before Angel could land a blow. "Look, Angel. They were good people. I know that. I didn't say what I said to piss you off. Maybe I would have once, but I knew them too. They were good -- and they died. You go off half-cocked after the Senior Partners, they'll take you apart."

"Angel," Faith said from where she lounged on the bed, "I may not be the best person to give advice on not acting impulsive, but you need to think this through."

"I have, Faith. I've thought about it for the past year. Planning the next step is all I've been thinking of. They made a mistake bringing me in. They thought they could control me -- and sometimes they almost did -- but they gave me an insider's view of how they run things. And I'm not going to let it go to waste. Wes, and Gunn, and Fred -- and Lorne -- they threw in with Wolfram & Hart because of me -- "

"Angel, their deaths are not your fault!" Buffy argued.

"Yeah, big guy. You mighta shown some of us the way to go, but we're here because we want to be. 'Cause it's a good fight. You were ready to die fighting it. And so were they."

"These bastards killed my family!" Angel's voice broke with a mixture of rage and anguish. There was silence for a few moments, and then he continued, his voice low and desperate. "I loved them, and I am not going to let their sacrifices be in vain. There are still a few people I love on this planet," he said, and his gaze flicked to Faith and lingered on Buffy. "I am not going to sit around pretending everything is perfect now just because I'm human, when I know they're out there trying to destroy _everything!_ "

Buffy crossed over to him and put her hand on his shoulder, rigid with tension and grief. "Okay. Okay, Angel, we're not trying to talk you out of it if your mind is made up -- we just want you to think about it. You don't have to decide to do this today. You... there's time. This gift you've been given -- "

"It's _not_ a gift. It's just... something the Immortal did. It's not from the Powers that Be -- the fact that it happened to _both_ of us -- "

"Bloody hellfire! What the hell do you want, mate? You want blue fairies? You want a little green cricket -- although, come to think of it, Lorne -- "

"Shut up, Spike." He got it in stereo, from both Buffy and Angel. Buffy glared at Angel, furious with him for downplaying what he'd been given. She knew it was grief and self-loathing, but she hated the fact that he _still_ didn't consider himself worthy of what he'd been given.

"Look. You can think of it any way you want, Angel, but it _is_ a gift. And it's not like it's a sweater. You can't give it back."

He winced as she spoke, and she grew concerned. "Are you okay? Maybe you should lie down. See, you're not well yet, it's too early to decide anyway -- "

"I'm fine, Buffy. And I've already decided. This is something that needs to be done."

"Okay. Well, good. Then I'll call Dawn and have her send some stuff for me. We'll go as soon as it gets here."

"What? No!" Angel stared at her, wide-eyed.

Spike raised an eyebrow. "Buffy, don't be stupid -- " He stopped when he saw her furious glare. "It's a suicide mission. A long, messy one." She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot, and he snorted. "Fine. Whatever. Better you than me, pet."

"And what are you gonna do?" Faith asked, curious.

"Hello -- "

Spike ignored Angel. "Sit on the beach, preferably surrounded by a couple of cute Slayers, and drink. You wanna be one of them?"

"Oh yes, my goal in life is to stand around protecting a drunk guy who spends all his time moaning about how things were better when he could drain a guy in thirty seconds flat. And why do you need Slayer bodyguards for a life of sloth anyway?"

"Sloth?" Buffy asked, amused.

"Guys -- "

"Giles," Faith said with a shrug.

"Well, with Captain Brood over there off saving the world in a different city every month, someone has to stay here and make sure the Big Bads aren't rebuilding here. Although it'd be kinda funny if he went around, swearing vengeance and raining hell down on all of them, and they just popped up again after he left... kinda like those plastic clowns you hit."

Faith looked intrigued, and Buffy saw it and said, "Faith, you can't stay anyway."

"I need your permission now, B?"

"Hello, you're a fugitive. You need to get out of the country."

"Enough!" Angel bellowed. He turned to Buffy. "You are not going with me."

"And how do you plan to stop me? Brute strength?" she shot back, and Angel flushed. "You can't even stop one determined Slayer and you're gonna take down an evil multidimensional corporation? You're going to need help, Angel."

"Now I think about it, it's going to have to be more than a couple. I think I'll need a -- what's a group of Slayers called, anyway?"

Faith warningly pointed a finger at Spike. "If you say a slew of Slayers, I'll stake you."

"Not a vamp."

"Your point?"

"Okay, guys, take it outside. Please. I have to talk to Buffy."

Faith snorted. "Yelling at her isn't gonna change her mind anymore than it'd change yours."

"Out!"

Faith glared at him and Spike shot him a rude gesture as they made their way out of the room, their bickering carrying back into the room from the hall. Angel resolutely shut the door behind them and turned to find Buffy watching him, her arms crossed over her chest.

"She's right, you know," she said. "You've made up your mind to go after Wolfram and Hart, and I've made up my mind to go with you."

"You're not going."

Buffy sighed. "Are we really gonna play are-not/are-too?"

"If we have to."

Anger flared within her, and it was almost welcome. _This_ Angel -- stubbornly reckless with his own life and just as stubbornly overprotective of hers -- she could deal with. She was on familiar ground here. The Angel she had seen earlier, hurt and quietly crying as he mourned alone, had made her feel helpless.

"I'm not sixteen, Angel! I'll do what I want to do! If all you want to do is kill yourself, then fine, I'm sure we can find you a weapon! If you're serious about doing something about Wolfram & Hart, you _are_ going to need some help! And I'm the best qualified helper!"

He sank down onto the bed. "I can't take them all out, Buffy."

"Angel -- " She sat beside him.

"I'm not trying to kill myself. But I don't plan to come out of this."

"I know you don't. You think I can't see that? That Faith and Spike can't see that? Maybe you can't take them out by yourself, but maybe the two of us can. And wherever we are, there's a couple hundred Slayers a phone call away -- you saw that last night."

He glanced at her and then looked away. "What happened to not trusting me?" he asked sullenly.

"What?"

"Andrew... When he took Dana away -- and I could have helped her, dammit! -- he was pretty clear. And when Fred -- "

"Okay, first of all, Andrew is an idiot. He's always been an idiot. Just because he thinks he's my best friend and I tell him everything doesn't make it true. And I'm sorry about Fred, Angel. Giles has a lot to answer for, and I'm going to make sure that he does."

He still refused to look at her, and she laid her hand on both of his, which were folded tightly in his lap. "Angel... I've always trusted you. This last year, I've worried like hell about you, but I knew you had a reason. I just didn't know what it was." She studied his face. "I still don't. But I've never thought you were a lost cause. Believe me, I would have been here -- I would have done something about it -- if I thought you couldn't be trusted anymore. And you know, you could have called me if you had something to say."

Angel said nothing, but he turned his hand under hers so that it was clasping hers loosely. The corner of his mouth twitched up. "I thought we already established that Angel and cell phones -- not a good combination."

She laughed and leaned against his shoulder. "I forgot."

He was so warm, and his body was so firm against her side, and she found herself snuggling closer. Unconsciously, he slid one of his hands from hers and wrapped it around her, pulling her even tighter against him.

She looked up just as he looked down at her, and they were inches apart. Her breath caught in her throat. It would be so easy to stretch just a little bit more and find out if his lips were as soft as she remembered. He made the decision for her, dipping his head to catch her lips with his own.

Buffy moaned as he nibbled at her. His lips _were_ soft, and warm... hot. He still tasted like Angel, though, and she nipped at him, trying to get more. His tongue darted between her lips to mate and play with hers, and she moved closer, one hand curling round the back of his neck to anchor itself in his thick, dark hair.

She slid her other hand up his chest, enjoying the catch in his breath as her hand glided over the silk of his shirt to rest over his heart. It was racing, and she smiled as she pulled away.

"That is so amazing," she murmured, and he smiled back.

"It kinda is, isn't it?" he said, his voice shaky.

She pulled back slightly, taking a deep breath. He made a soft sound of disappointment, but he loosened his grip just a little bit.

"Guess that qualifies as happy to see me," she said with a grin.

He looked confused for a moment, and then his face cleared as the memory apparently surfaced. He grinned, and then he took her hands in his. "Yes. It does. And it occurs to me I haven't said thank you for saving my ass."

"You're welcome. It's a cute ass." She laughed at his shocked expression. "Well, it is! Oh my God! Angel!"

The shock changed into alarm. "What?"

"You're blushing!"

It only made him blush more, and she laughed and kissed his pink cheek. She took a deep breath and then forged on with her next questions. She was terrified, but her voice was even as she observed, "So... no more Angelus. No more curse."

"No..."

"And… you could… you know… go for a -- a picnic, say, if you wanted." She was the one blushing now, with nervousness, and she stared down at the dark coverlet on the bed to avoid his gaze.

His gaze was fixed on the blanket as well. "What about you and… what's… uh… him?"

She shifted on the bed. "It's not… he wasn't… we were just killing time."

Angel glanced up at her, and she met his eyes with a sheepish smile. "He's just… Giles says he's a figure of balance. Sometimes he's on our side, and sometimes he's not. And I tried to keep that in mind, but he's charming, and funny, and you know, I have this thing for reformed bad boys…"

Angel wasn't smiling, and she cleared her throat. "He was in Italy, waiting for whatever needed to happen here to happen. We spent time together. That's all."

He studied her face, and she gazed back earnestly, letting him see the truth in her words. After a moment, he nodded, reaching out to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. "What about cookies?" he asked, and she had to tear herself away from those gorgeous eyes before she could answer.

"What? Oh... cookies... cookies was all before the fight with the First. I had no idea what was going to happen, Angel -- I didn't know if I was going to live or die -- I had no idea that in one day I'd go from The Chosen One to one of a couple hundred, maybe more. Can you tell me that anything you thought yesterday about the future before everything happened is still true?"

Angel blinked, and then his slightly perplexed expression cleared and he said in determination, "The Senior Partners need to die."

"Okay, besides that."

He thought for a moment. "About the future?" She nodded. "No. I didn't think I'd have one."

"Exactly. It's that kind of thinking that causes baking metaphors. But now you do have a future, Angel, and..."

He stared at her, his brow furrowed in confusion. "So... does this mean you're cookies now?"

She sighed. "Forget cookies. I'm Buffy. And Buffy's decided -- I've decided -- that I want to be with you -- whether our lives are short and hard or long and happy. Okay?"

"I think... I think that I could go for that," he said, pulling her close and kissing her temple. She relaxed into his arms. "But Buffy, there's -- "

"A lot to talk about still? Yeah, and there's a lot to fight about and scream about and a lot to decide, and I'm sure there'll be a lot of tears, and maybe some violence and strong language. Normal couples fight, Angel. They have screaming matches and slammed doors. I don't know where you got this idea that we should be any different."

"I just wanted you to be happy, Buffy. That's all I ever wanted."

"Angel?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up. I'm trying to listen to your heartbeat."

He laughed as she snuggled down into his arms, but he was quiet, and she was glad. The heavy discussions -- and some of them would be -- could come later.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Angel stepped into the shadows of the Hyperion's lobby, sighing in relief. Being out in the sun was an amazing experience, but it was still uncomfortable. His skin itched and felt tight, and his eyes watered behind the designer sunglasses Faith and Buffy had given him.

The lobby was cool and dark and welcoming. Spike was sprawled on the round sofa, and Faith lounged at the desk behind the counter, talking with Buffy, who was hidden from Angel's view, in the office. Faint noises came from upstairs -- the sounds of a team of Slayers packing up and preparing to leave or unpacking and settling in.

The scene shifted in Angel's head, and suddenly Gunn was relaxing on the couch with his Game Boy as Cordy filed, bickering with Wes as he puttered around in the office. The slight movement upstairs became Fred in her room and Lorne singing to a newborn Connor. Angel squeezed his eyes shut as the echo of his son's cry drifted to him from the past.

"Look at the poncy bugger," Spike growled from the sofa. "Posing in the doorway like some sort of dark avenger."

Still struggling with the sudden express train of grief, Angel jumped when Buffy's voice came from right beside him. "I don't think he's posing," she snapped, and Spike snorted. Her voice gentled as she asked, "Hey, you okay?"

He nodded stiffly, taking a deep, shaky breath. "Will be."

She looked up into his eyes, studying his face, and he willed away the tears he knew were there, ordering them not to fall.

"How was lunch?" she asked quietly, and his grim thoughts immediately eased their hold on him. He felt a smile quirk his lips -- an automatic response again these days, it seemed, to thoughts of his son.

"It was... great," he told her truthfully. "He had a table in the back, the darkest corner of the restaurant, and when I got there he was looking toward the kitchen entrance, obviously waiting for me to come from the back. You should have seen his face when I came through the restaurant in the sunlight, reflecting in all the mirrors..."

His voice trailed off as he remembered the shocked expression on his son's face.

Connor had been speechless for several minutes, and Angel had briefly worried that his new, improved son would be disappointed that Angel was no longer a supernatural creature of the night. But even with his memories jumbled and rewritten, Connor still knew what this meant for Angel.

"Angel?"

He snapped out of his reverie as Buffy rested her hand on his shoulder. She glanced through the doors out into the late afternoon sunlight slanting through the garden.

"Long lunch, huh?"

He studied her face, trying to decide if she was angry, but she merely looked curious. "Sorry. Didn't mean to be gone so long. We went for a walk."

Angel had walked along in the sunlight, talking to his son about anything and everything. He'd told Connor about his plans for a road trip, though he didn't tell the boy why, and a mixture of emotions had flitted over Connor's face.

The relief had been painful to see -- Connor was evidently still unsure about Angel's place in his life -- but the boy's badly hidden disappointment had done a lot to make Angel feel better.

He smiled at Buffy, who returned the smile. She slipped her arms around him, hugging him tightly before leading him down into the lobby. "So... am I ever gonna find out who your mysterious lunch date really is?"

Angel's grin faded; he was going to tell her, he really kept meaning to, but it was so much to explain, and so much of it was heartbreaking. He knew she was curious, but she hadn't pushed, and he was more than willing to keep putting it off. He glanced from Faith to Spike, who had briefly suspended their normal bickering to eagerly eavesdrop. "I... he's... Connor's not exactly -- he's... special. I kinda took him under my wing after he and his f-family contacted Wolfram and Hart -- "

He broke off abruptly, avoiding her gaze, and she watched him for a few moments before nodding solemnly. "Ah. One of the big ones, then."

He smiled half-heartedly, nodding at her. It seemed that during the days since Buffy's arrival and her and Angel's subsequent decision to try and work things out, they'd done more talking than in all the years they had known each other combined.

There were still several major talks coming -- he had yet to tell her about his son or about the day he had given back. Angel could tell by the faraway expression he sometimes saw on her face when she thought he wasn't looking that there were things she hadn't told him yet. It made him nervous, especially when he considered what he was still keeping from her.

They seemed to be saving The Big Talks for after they had left the hotel. Which was probably a good idea, he thought as he glanced at Faith and Spike again. Having what might turn into a screaming match was bad enough in a building shared with others; in a building currently occupied by a bunch of teenage girls with supernatural hearing, the embarrassment factor went up exponentially.

The tension in the room broke as some of the girls came thundering down the stairs, bags in hand. With her hand still wrapped around Angel's upper arm, Buffy turned and smiled at them. The smile was proud, and wistful, and Angel's hand came up to cover hers.

"Ready to go?" she asked.

"Did someone already call Willow?" Angel asked, reaching toward his pocket for his new cell phone.

Faith half-raised a hand, gesturing for him to put it away. "'Bout twenty, twenty five minutes ago. She said to be ready in half an hour."

"Someone please tell me again why we can't just take a plane like normal people?" one of the youngest Slayers asked nervously, clutching at her carryon.

"Because airport security generally frowns on large groups of heavily armed passengers," Buffy reminded her, nodding at the axe Rona held.

"Hey... isn't that -- " Spike broke off as he glanced from Rona to Angel. The girl held the hubcap axe tighter, and her tiny nod toward Angel was a promise to use it well.

He resisted the grief-filled urge to grab it back from her. He and Buffy couldn't take his entire arsenal, so he'd shared out his weaponry -- and that of Gunn and Wes -- between the team of Slayers going back to England, and the team of Slayers staying here with Spike. It had been difficult, but the girls had all been grateful, and he had no one left to give it to.

Buffy's phone rang a single time -- Willow's signal. Buffy sighed. "Be careful," she told them all. Faith rolled her eyes at Buffy as she gave the girls a wave. Buffy glared at her briefly and then told them, "And remember, the poi -- "

" -- nty ends faces out," the girls chorused, some of them groaning while others laughed. Everyone's ears popped as the pressure in the room changed, and the girls vanished in a flash of white light.

Buffy was facing away from him, and he couldn't see her face, but he could see the stillness of her body, and he could see her shoulders shudder as another sigh gusted through her. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"They're still so... young."

"You were younger," he whispered. "Besides, they'll be okay. They have Giles, and Willow." After a moment, he bit out, "And Xander."

Buffy smiled, knowing what it cost him to say that. The animosity between the two men would likely never completely disappear, but Angel was much better at hiding it. She leaned back into his arms. "You packed? Ready to go?"

He stared around the lobby. Now that their planned departure time had arrived, he suddenly realized he didn't want to go. He didn't want to leave the hotel where, if he tried hard enough, he could hear his family's laughter.

Buffy must have seen the look on his face because she said, "We don't have to do this, Angel. We could... stay."

Angel's gaze fell on the elevator, and his thoughts drifted to the basement, where the bodies of Gunn, Fred, and Wesley had lain side by side just a short few days earlier. His face hardened. "Yes. We do have to do this," he told her, and she nodded. He glanced slyly at her. "Besides, stay here? With Spike?"

"Oh, would you bugger off already?"

Angel laughed, tugging Buffy toward the stairs. "Come on, it's time to get going."

An hour passed, and they were all gathered around the car as Faith fit the last bag into the already packed trunk. She moved it and it clunked. They were traveling pretty light in terms of clothes and possessions, but the Plymouth was even more of a rolling arsenal than usual.

"I hope the cops don't stop you and search the car," one of the remaining Slayers said.

"Wouldn't be the first time," Angel said cryptically. Buffy stared at him.

"And how exactly did you explain all your toys away?"

"That is a story for another day," he told her with a smug grin. She shook her head in exasperation as she pulled the younger girls aside for a last little chat. Faith ambled after her, leaving Spike and Angel facing each other.

They scowled at each other for a moment and then Spike rolled his eyes and lit a cigarette. "Look, I don't give a toss about you, don't care if you want to go off on a vengeance trip, but try not to get her killed."

Angel glanced at Buffy as Spike's words penetrated. Was he just going after Wolfram and Hart for vengeance? Was he going to get her killed? Was any of it necessary? Maybe they could stay, maybe it would be better. He didn't care if he died in the fight, but what about Buffy?

She laughed at something one of the girls said, and his heart clenched. No. No, if he didn't do something, the Senior Partners would come after her. They'd come after her and Connor and Faith. Nina, if they found out about her. Connor's family -- his new family. Dawnie. And Willow and Giles and everyone even remotely connected to Angel. Before, he'd been either a nuisance or an intriguing possibility. Now he was an enemy. And they wouldn't ignore that.

Angel took a deep breath, pushing aside his fears once more. He smiled slyly at Spike, who was watching him and grinning, smug that his words had rattled Angel.

His voice was even as he said, "Buffy'll be fine, don't you worry your pretty blond head. Don't destroy my hotel. Enjoy the beach. And don't forget the sunblock this time."

He smirked as Spike glared at him and reached a hand up to scratch at his peeling nose. But the blonde's face lightened and he leered at Faith. "Oh, I _will_ enjoy it," he said.

Angel laughed. "She could have kicked your ass up and down the street _before_. I can't wait to hear what'll happen now. In fact, it's almost worth staying for!"

"What's worth staying for?"

He wrapped an arm around Buffy and pulled her close, dropping a kiss on the top of her head without losing eye contact with Spike. "Oh, just some plans of Spike's."

"Yeah? What's up, blondie?" Faith eyed him speculatively.

Spike blushed, and Angel snickered. His laughter faded but his grin stayed as he regarded the dark-haired Slayer. "Faith."

"Pasty."

"Faith!"

She laughed. "What? You are. And besides, next time I see you, you'll be all tanned and I won't be able to use it anymore. Now that's a thought... Big A all golden brown. You'll have to send pictures, B."

Angel felt Buffy stiffen minutely and he saw the flash of jealousy in her eyes. Though it was gone in an instant, it warmed him, and he pulled her more tightly against his chest. Her voice betrayed nothing as she said lightly, "Darn, no camera. Guess you'll just have to use your imagination."

"I can do that."

"Take care of yourself, Faith," Angel said seriously, and she nodded.

"You too, big guy. And you, B. Was just getting used to having you around."

"Don't get caught," Buffy told her sternly, but a smile hovered around the edges of her lips.

"Ten four."

"Spike." Buffy nodded at him, and her expression was warm and friendly, but she didn't move from Angel's arms, and for that, Angel was supremely glad. "Be careful, okay?"

"Slayer." His voice was wistful, but he said nothing more.

The other girls all called their goodbyes as Buffy and Angel got into the car and settled themselves. Buffy glanced around the interior. "You know, Angel, with gas prices the way they are... maybe you should consider getting a more fuel efficient car. Maybe a Volvo..."

"Buffy!" he yelped. "I am _not_ driving a Volvo!"

She laughed and waved goodbye to Faith and Spike and the girls as Angel pulled out into traffic. Halfway down the street, she looked back, smiling, and then she froze.

Angel noticed her stillness, glancing at her reflection in the rearview mirror. "Buffy?"

After a moment, she turned around and settled back into her seat. She didn't look directly at him, but her gaze met his in the mirror. If he weren't so unsettled, he would have smiled at the novelty of it. "What is it?" he asked quietly.

"It's nothing."

"Buffy," he admonished, his voice full of concern as he switched between watching the traffic and glancing at her.

She sighed. "It's really nothing, Angel. Just a thought. I... it's -- I don't want you to take it the wrong way."

He pulled over, and she said, "Angel!"

"Tell me."

She mumbled something, and he frowned. He would have been able to hear it before... before. He took her chin in his hand, raising her gaze to his.

"I said, 'The sunset's back that way.' You know, you, me, riding off... there's a beautiful sunset, Angel, and it's back that way."

Angel's breath caught, his heart dropping into his stomach. "Buffy -- "

"See, I knew it. I didn't mean anything, Angel. It was just a thought. This? We're riding off into the night, together, and that's even better. The darkness is ours, Angel, it's always been ours. This is right. Even if you're human, and I'm human -- mostly -- we don't need picnics and walks on the beach. That's not who we are. This fight is who we are. It's who we'll always be. Together."

 _Together, you were powerful..._

He swallowed his doubts. "It's right, hmm?"

"Actually, it's left. Right up there." She pointed. "At that light. So get this hunk of junk going."

"It's _not_ a hunk of junk! It's a classic!" he growled as he dropped the Plymouth back into gear.

She laughed as the car slid into traffic and disappeared into the night.

**Author's Note:**

> somefairytale's request:
> 
>  _Pairing (or none) (the pairing you would like written for you): Buffy/Angel_
> 
>  _Genre You Prefer (no guarantees, but we'll do our best to oblige both reading and writing preferences, ie. shippy, smut, darkfic, slash, etc): Angst/darkfic, shippyness._
> 
>  _Requests (1 or 2) (one or two things you'd like in your story, ie: angst, a phrase, a character): A hotel, a roadtrip._
> 
>  _Restrictions (1 or 2) (one or two things you would like not to be in your story, ie: no sex, no mention of a character): No Angelus. Mention of him etc is fine but no actual Angelus appearing in the fic._


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